


Seize

by spazmoid



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: 8akuroku13, Drabbles, M/M, renven is tots a thing okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spazmoid/pseuds/spazmoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection sixteen ('seize' in French) drabbles written for my friend's sixteenth birthday. They were based on one-worded prompts. Most are AkuRoku, some are RenVen, and some can be interpreted at will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8akuroku13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=8akuroku13).



_**o1. fernweh** _

I dream of him whenever I bother to close my eyes. He is incarnadine, rubies, and falling petals from roses. He is green, the type of green that is too vibrant to exist. He is burned into the back of my eyelids and tattooed into memories I cannot piece together. I can taste a three-worded phrase on my tongue when I think of him. It tastes bittersweet like the blue ice cream that drops from the clock tower when he presses me against brick walls (or when I press him - one leg on each side of his waist and hands against his chest).

I can taste that same bittersweetness when I wake up and taste the saltwater on my cheeks. The dreams are fading, but I can still taste him mixing with the flavour of ice cream on my tongue. I can remember the colour of his skin and the burns that covered it. The way I kissed them better; the way he kissed me better. What I cannot remember is his name, the name I panted and moaned into, between, and when parted from his lips.

I cannot remember the clock tower where we watched the sunsets, nor can I remember the words he said to me. I can only remember his voice and the way he said my name. I can remember how when I stared at him I forgot to breathe because my lungs stopped working when I saw him. They still do when I struggle to remember his everything. What was it he always said? " _Got it memorised?_ " The irony of not remembering scorches my everything, but then I tell myself how it is nothing but a dream.

(Just a dream, then why do I want him so very badly to be real?)

**_o2. hikikomori_ **

Roxas stays inside, wrapped in blankets and in front of lit up screens as he watches pixels and graphics move around in a digital universe. He likes to pretend that he is the characters, taking the rpg too seriously as he becomes Link and Dante and Commader Shepard - whomever he chooses, but he is never 'Roxas'. That is until he is snapped from his virtual world by a new new neighbour with toxic green eyes that can never be captured in his beloved pixels and two permanent tears on his cheeks. He stares, and he struggles to find words because oh _god_ , the man starts speaking, and his heart is beating so quickly he is afraid he will explode like the grenades he throws in his videogames.

He is still struggling to just calm the fuck down when the person in front of him starts speaking and introduces himself.

"Axel. Glad to meet you."

**_o3. l'esprit de l'escalier_ **

You wish you had begged him to stay, that you had grabbed into his black coat sleeve and forced him against the wall and said those words until he listened to you. You wished you had not watched his back turn away from you, watch those sea-salt blues dull to sombre, lifeless blue, watch that honey hair disappear into a void never to be seen again. You wish over and over again every night as you replay every moment you two ever spent together, and sometimes you even think of the girl who spent it with you although she is irrelevant. All you want is that sweet honey-blond that now leaves a bitter taste in your mouth when you think of his name.

**_o4. cavoli riscaldati_ **

You two were done. You had screamed at him how much he did not care, and he had screamed back how he did. When you had slammed the door, you promised not to return

And you didn't. You never went back to that apartment even when you realised you had left your PSP and your favourite sweatshirt.

But when you see him again, this time not in a crapped room with shitty furniture you had loved, he is dressed in leather and that red hair is tugged into the sloppiest ponytail you have ever seen. He walks up to the counter, and he does not look up until you clear your throat and you ask what does he want (although you know he likes his coffee black with a dollop of cream and a dash of peppermint, and that he likes to eat cake pops on bad days when he thinks the whole world is against him).

You do not want to be sucked into the green eyes that meet yours (but you are). You do not want to melt at that forced smile that slowly becomes genuine as the memories sink in (but you do). He is staring when he orders peppermint cocoa and blue saltwater taffy (your favourites), and he asks if he has seen you before although the both of you know what he is really asking.

So you make him black coffee with a dollop of cream and a dash of peppermint and then answer his question with a smile and a " _Please come again_."

**_o5. mamihlapinatapei_ **

Ventus wakes up in Reno's bed again, not sure how he ends up there every weekend out of any reason other than the craving for routine. He crawls out of the bed and finds the man's jacket to steal a cigarette from the pack of black devils he knows is there. He opens the window and smokes it, inhaling and exhaling that toxic air that burns his throat the same way scorching kisses does. He thinks of the smoking as kissing Reno, breathing him in then out. He keeps doing it (inhale, exhale, repeat), over and over until Ventus can hear rustling in the sheets and peridot eyes bore into his back. Ventus meets them with his larimar ones. He can hear the question in the drowsy eyes in his inhale, but he refuses to acknowledge it as he faces the window and lets his answer sail into the window with blue-grey smoke.

**_o6. komorebi_ **

Sometimes, Axel stares at the way sunlight crawls through leaves and their bedroom window to caress the soft curls beneath his fingertips. They always look sharp, too sharp to touch, but the minute they are beneath Axel's fingers he can tell just how soft they are.

Roxas always stirs when Axel does this, but that never stops his lover from stroking his hair. Axel ponders whether or not there are actual little sunbeams trapped down on earth in each curl. Sky-coloured eyes open, only halfway, to look at him, and he laughs softly as Roxas tells him to just fuck off so he could get more sleep before closing them again. He places lazy kisses all over _his_ sunshine's face, and Roxas groans but doesn't stop him. "Damnit Axel," he breathes and huffs as he struggles to stay asleep but fails. He opens his eyes once more to glare, but it is softened by the sunlight, his sleep, and the _I love you_ 's hidden in every syllable.

**_o7. jayus_ **

The joint is long burned out, but Axel is still talking and you are still laughing at the badly told jokes he probably stole from the Laffy Taffy wrappers that fill your trashcan. You tell him you wonder if his kisses are as shitty as his jokes are. You do not know why you say it until his lips are suddenly against yours.

It is sloppy, drunk, and just a hot mess, but it is perfect because you've been waiting too long for those lips.

(And you cannot wait until you both are sober, and you get to try again.)

**_o8. meraki_ **

When he reads you poetry it is like he injecting you with the words he speaks. His words are made of the everything that makes up his very being. He likes to read them to you when he thinks you are asleep, and the whole room is quiet. The only one he is knowledgeable of being awake is that damn cat you keep begging him to get rid of (but he says it gets to stay because your dog stays, and you cannot argue with his scowling pout). And sometimes he cries as he reads the words, and you want to reach out for his hand. Except you know if you do he will catch on you never really were sleeping, and you need to hear those poems.

So you listen to him cry, and it hurts until he starts on a new tangent of poems - these are about sunsets, hurricanes, fire, and a heavenly hell. You can hear the smile in his voice without opening your eyes as he keeps reading the words out loud, not stopping until he is done.

He curls into your side when he is finished reading, and he likes to intertwine your limbs and fingers until it is too hard to tell the two of you apart. He does not question the arm that wraps around him or the way you nuzzle into his hair. He just sighs, and you can hear his whispered " _I love you_ ," and you hope he hears (or feels) you mouth the words back into his hair.

**_o9. kummerspeck_ **

Roxas is still on the couch when Axel comes home, a sticky bowl turned over on the floor and the remains of their liquor cabinet (just empty, colourful bottles now) littered around the bowl, and he feels the guilt sink in as he sighs and checks the time. He goes to the couch, and he places a chaste kiss on the lips that taste strongly of vodka and faintly of sea-salt ice cream. He mumbles his apology and promises to get off work earlier as Roxas opens his eyes.

He expects a hand, a slap or a punch, anything but those arms wrapping around his shoulders and that dulcet voice whispering in his ear asking him to carry him to bed because his drunken, stumbling legs are all the redhead's fault.

**_1o. shemomedjamo_ **

You just left for a second, expecting to come back to the plate of chocolate chip pancakes still waiting for you on the counter, but instead you find a beautiful devil with blond hair finishing off the last of your plate before running off, his mellifluous voice fading as he goes to hide in the bedroom you two share.

A sigh passes your lips, but a smile is gracing it as you try not to laugh too.

**_11\. tartle_ **

_He is the worst announcer ever_. That is what you think when he pauses in introducing the names, and he seems to forget what words he is supposed to say. The mullet-haired man next to him has to take over and continue the announcing in an ebullient voice that makes you wonder just how much energy can one person have.

After the show, he catches your arm, green eyes searching your blue. You stare back, and open your mouth to speak only for words to catch in your throat when you realise who exactly the 'worst announcer' is.

"Axel?"

**_12\. backpfeifengesicht_ **

You aim your clenched hand for his nose or jaw, but honestly as long as the hit makes contact you do not care.

Except it doesn't.

He grabs your wrist and catches the other one before it flies as well. You struggle and thrash, and you are tempted to scream how much you despise him. Except you know all those words would be little black lies. so you punch him with your lips, the kiss punishing as you nip and bite. He protests, but then he is kissing back as whatever you two had been fighting for is forgotten. The anger disappears between the two of your mouths, and the kiss turns almost sweet as you run out of air.

" _I hate you_ ," you lie because what you hate is how beautiful his smile is as it brushes your cheek.

" _Love you too_."

**_13\. iktsuarpok_ **

Only thirty-three minutes have passed, but it feels like forever. Ventus thinks it just might be. He has been outside and checked the windows over forty times (maybe more - he honestly lost count after twenty-five). He has moved on to sitting and staring out the window with nerves that could jumpstart a hummingbird. He tries to calm down with comfort foods, but he cannot stomach them. The butterflies in his stomach prevent anything from staying down. He sighs and closes his eyes, attempts to count his heartbeat (and fails), and he waits.

It revels on him that waiting is terrible.

He is sulking by the time he hears the choking motor of a 1980 Ford Escort Hatchback. He knows who it is even before he sees the vibrant red ponytail and hears the cursing in the voice he had been missing for what felt like a lifetime. He bounces up and runs outside, throwing his arms around the other with a hug brutal enough to knock them both to the ground. Reno complains about a pain in the back of his head, but you shut him up with a kiss.

"Just admit you missed me too idiot."

_**14\. pelinti** _

"Wait, Roxas they're still-" Axel does not manage to finish the sentence before Roxas slips a still hot snickerdoodle into his mouth. Axel just stands and wait for the "aaaarrrahh" noise to come.

And it does (maybe Axel is psychic), and it is followed by a whining "Too hot!" Axel cannot help but laugh as Roxas complains that his tongue is now burned. In fact, Roxas is still complaining when Axel puts a piece of ice in his mouth before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Cooled down?"

**_15\. greng-jai_ **

No matter how much Reno protests, Ventus fixes everything. He fixes the sink, the car, the rotten hole in the porch that Reno was going to get around to fixing (eventually). Reno is frustrated when he finds Ventus painting his shed, and he tells him to stop again only to listen to Ventus tell him how much he wants to help. He sighs as he just gives in and lets himself get used to the random tools that now lay around his house at any time of day.

In the winter months, Ventus has finally stopped moving around and fixing things, resigning to sitting in front of Reno's fireplace and sipping hot chocolate. That is when Reno learns from a chocolate tinged kiss the real reason Ventus comes over so often and why he is always around him.

("Hey, Reno."

"Hmn?"

"I think I'm in love with you.")

**_16\. mencolek_ **

Something brushes against his right shoulder shakes Axel from the movie. When he looks over to Roxas (on his left), the blond's hands are in his lap as he stares at the screen. He senses Axel's gaze and looks over and flashes Axel an innocent smile. He looks back at the screen without a word, and Axel decides maybe it was just his imagination.

That is until it happens three more times, and each time Roxas's hands are always in his lap and his eyes are always innocently facing the screen.

Axel decides to solve the problem by taking Roxas's mischievous hand and intertwining it with his own. Roxas seems content with this as he slopes to the side to rest his head on Axel's shoulder as they watch the film.


End file.
